


december never felt so right

by jimin97



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, winter fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:37:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimin97/pseuds/jimin97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’m Niall,” the boy in the glasses says, and <em>maybe, just maybe,</em> Zayn thinks, <em>this winter isn’t gonna be so bad after all.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	december never felt so right

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my 12 Days of Ziall Christmas thing on Tumblr, also this was super rushed and not proofread so all mistakes are my own. Title from Sarah Bareilles' Winter Song with one word changed lol

Zayn hates being cold.

He’s never liked wintertime. He doesn’t like having to wear so many layers, or the way his shoes soak through every time he takes a step. He doesn’t like the wind biting at his skin, or paying four dollars for a small cup of coffee, or getting letters from the building owners informing him of the _small charges_ added to his rent every time he feels like raising the damn heat a little bit.

The worst thing is that he’s gotta _walk_ everywhere (no, he hasn’t got a car—or a license, for that matter). He walks to his classes on the other side of town, to the library across the street, to the laundromat down the road. He’s got two pairs of boots, yeah, but one pair’s starting to lose its outsole, and the other’s made of some ridiculous material, suede, or something. It’s probably because he didn’t spend more than fifteen bucks on each, but let’s not bring that up.

He's gotta walk to the library in the morning, has to choose a classic book to read and write a report on. Not a hard assignment, no, but the only "classic literature" Zayn was into was more along the lines of the 1960s Avengers Annual series.

Zayn goes to bed early, sets an alarm for 7:30 so he can get up and grab breakfast at the café before the morning rush. He grabs his teddy bear that his sister gave him (yes, he sleeps with the teddy bear, but nobody needs to know that) and crawls onto the mattress before he can decide to get up and watch TV or something.

It's 8:40 when Zayn gets up, the faint _beepbeepbeep_ of his alarm slowly cutting into his sleep. He checks his phone, irritated that his alarm didn't go off earlier.

He gets out of bed, brushes his teeth, notices red marks on his face from falling asleep on the pillow creases. He goes to his kitchen and fries himself an egg, gulps down some sour (and old) orange juice before getting dressed. He's thrown on a thermal and a T-shirt and a sweater on top, long johns under his pants and, no, not one, but _two_ layers of socks. Zayn's taking no chances with the cold.

He grabs his jacket, zips it up to the top, puts his hat on and grabs his beat up boots (the ones with the fading outsole. too much snow for the suede).

Zayn's got this spot at the library, _his_ spot, with a comfy little sofa and chair by a study table that nobody ever finds because it's tucked away in a corner, hidden by giant bookshelves stocked with volumes and volumes of outdated encyclopedias. The most boring books, really, which is probably why nobody ever ventures into that area. It doesn't matter to him, though, because the spot is a place for him to relax, to study, to get away from people and just be _alone_. And warm.

Zayn's hair's a mess, his breakfast was bad (especially the orange juice, that should've been dumped long ago), his boots weren't helping his feet stay dry, and to top it all off, somebody was sitting in _his_ spot, feet up on the couch, looking down at a book. A very cute somebody, with blonde hair gelled up into a quiff, glasses framing his eyes.

Zayn clears his throat and the somebody looks up.

"Hi," the somebody smiles and Zayn can see clear brackets running across his teeth. Very nice teeth.

"I'm Niall," the boy in the glasses says, and _maybe,_ Zayn thinks, _just maybe, this winter isn't gonna be so bad after all._

"I'm, uh. Zayn. I'm Zayn," Zayn replies, trying to find it within himself to tell the boy off for being in his spot.

"Nice to meet ya, Zayn. Ya alright?" he asks, "Seem a little shook up."

Zayn looks at him until he realizes that he was asked a question. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Just that I'm usually the only one here."

Cutie's face drops for a second, then goes back to smiling. Kind of.

"Did you, uh. Did you want me to go?" He asks, getting up from his seat.

"No, no. Stay!" Zayn says, taking a seat in the chair. "Didn't mean it like that. Are you new here?"

Niall tells him all about how he transferred to the school, went looking for a spot in the library because he needed somewhere to read his bok—How to Kill a Mockingbird or something—when he found _the spot_ and Zayn found him.

There was more, a lot more, Zayn knows, but he wasn't really paying attention to _what_ Niall was saying, really. He picked up bits and pieces, focused more on listening to Niall's accent, (Irish, by the sound of it), the way Niall's lips fell over his braces when he talked, the way his eyes were the color of the Caribbean sea in the June picture of Zayn's calendar in his room.

Niall's asks Zayn what he's doing, being at the library so early in the morning.

"Got a report to write, man. Any item of classic literature, but the only things I read are, like, Marvel Comics and stuff. Not that I don't read, just haven't got time for anything. Plus the stupid snow is keeping me from going anywhere."

Zayn gets to hear Niall's laugh then. It's loud, almost like a cackle, but Zayn likes it.

"You're sick of the snow?" Niall asks, still laughing. "There's barely an inch on the ground, mate. You're like Scout and Jem, except you're _upset_ about the snow!"

Zayn looks at him, confused.

Niall takes a hint and stops laughing.

"Scout and Jem...To Kill a Mockingbird?" Niall looks down at his book. "I actually like you, Zayn. Now I'm reconsidering. This book is probably the best book you will ever read. Ever. It's my favourite, the book that got me to start reading classics. You should read it sometime."

Zayn goes blank after _I actually like you._ Niall liked him? Zayn was pretty sure he liked Niall too.

Niall looks at his watch, mumbles _shit_ before gathering his things.

"Hey, I've got class in a few, don't wanna be late again! I'll see ya around." Niall waves to Zayn and rushes off. "Oh, wait!" He comes back. "Read this book, we can talk about it next time we meet!" Niall presses the book into Zayn's hands before rushing off again.

 _Next time,_ Zayn thinks. _There's gonna be a next time._ He's gonna read the book, Zayn promises himself. _Especially_ if there was gonna be a next time.

Zayn reads the first few chapters, heads home after a bit because he's hungry and left his wallet on the counter. He doesn't want fried egg again, so he makes a shrimp pot noodle instead (not as good as regular shrimp noodles, but he's not complaining).

Zayn gets up late in hopes of catching Niall at the library again.

Niall's not there, but Zayn stays anyway. He's a little disappointed, yeah, but he's got time to read the book. Plus, he doesn’t want to go back into the cold again. Stupid winter.

Zayn goes around 9:30 the day after, finds Niall seated seated on the couch, feet propped up and book in hand.

He looks up and sees Zayn, smiles a big goofy smile that Zayn would love to cover with his own lips.

"Zayn! Did you get a chance to read the book?"

Zayn read the whole thing, even stayed up late to write his paper on an analysis of Scout and Dill’s friendship.

"Hey. Niall. You wanna go to the café, grab something to eat?" Zayn asks.

"Yeah, God bless. Didn't get to have breakfast this morning."

Zayn smiles, walks with Niall two doors down to the café. This time, he's got his wallet so he pays for their food.

Niall tells Zayn about life in Ireland, about his favourite food and his favourite book, how he was excited to watch the Derby game over the weekend.

"I've got my money on Rams, obviously, they're legend!"

Zayn smiled, agreeing with Niall, ninety six percent sure that he was talking about derby. Zayn wasn't so sure what derby was exactly, but thought it had something to do with horses. It didn't really matter, though, because Zayn could watch Niall talk forever, no matter what the subject.  He saw the way Niall's glasses made his eyes bigger, made them clearer and bluer, how his eyes stayed on Zayn when he spoke, the way he moved his hands when he got excited.

Niall asked Zayn what his life was like. What was there to say? He was a poor, single, academically average college student who disliked winter. A lot.

"How could anyone dislike winter? The snow makes things brighter, someone's always making hot cocoa, _plus_ winter's an excuse to have a cuddle buddy." Niall's cheeks turned pink the slightest bit at that.

Zayn liked how Niall made light of the wintertime. He still hated it, though. Sure, there was hot cocoa, and the snow made things pretty and cuddling was nice, too, but those were all indoor winter things. Unfortunately for Zayn, he was usually outside in the cold. It’s not like he had a cuddle buddy, anyways.

That’s how Zayn's mornings went down. He'd meet Niall at the library, they'd go have breakfast at the café, and sometimes they'd go back to their spot. Yes, _their_ spot.

Zayn invites Niall to his place one day, tells him to come over in the morning so they can chill together, scrawls his apartment number on a piece of paper and hands it to Niall even though he could’ve pointed out the window to the last window on the right-hand side of the building.

“How’s tomorrow?” Niall asks, and Zayn figures _he_ should be the one asking, but replies,

“Yeah, tomorrow sounds great.”

Niall shows up at Zayn’s house the next morning, walks in with big glasses and an even bigger smile.

“So this is the place, eh? Nice, very nice,” he says, but Zayn guesses he’s just saying that out of courtesy.  

Zayn takes him to the kitchen table, already set with two plates of hot breakfast, omelets and pancakes, bacon on the side. Zayn had walked to the market the night before, picked up some eggs, flour, and bacon. The usual.

Niall finishes his breakfast, says to Zayn, “Good Lord, Zayn, if food is the way to a man’s heart then you’ve definitely got mine,” with a quick wink. Zayn laughs, feels his cheeks heat up as a blush creeps across his cheeks.

They watch TV—“Have you got derby on here?”—and Niall talks while Zayn tries doing homework (keyword being _tries,_ Zayn can’t actually focus on anything when Niall’s around except for, well, Niall himself).

Niall coming over becomes the usual, and Zayn not getting any work done does too. Niall comes in the morning, sometimes stays for lunch (they order out some days, cook at home others) and falls asleep on the couch when they’re watching TV, gets up before dinner and profusely apologizes for staying late _again_ , leaves before Zayn can insist that he stay for dinner.

One day, Niall's sitting on Zayn’s bed, going on about something, something about a bad grade and it was probably because he's Irish and he needs to talk to the teacher because this is so unfair and _wow,_ his lips look so nice when his top teeth graze his bottom lip and he looks so _warm_ —Zayn kisses him.

It’s a quick kiss, so quick it’s almost like it never happened. _Almost._

Zayn starts to regret it, sees how Niall stops and stares at him, his thoughts running wild in his head when Niall kisses him back.

The kiss is longer, Zayn’s tongue brushing against Niall’s braces, so weird but _so right_.

Niall pulls away, says, “Was starting t' wonder if I would have to kiss you first.”

And in that moment, Zayn knows that winter _definitely_ wasn’t as bad as he’d thought.


End file.
